


Into The Abyss

by Gingerhermit



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: CPR, Friendship, Gen, Male Bonding, Temporary Character Death, no slash :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gingerhermit/pseuds/Gingerhermit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mission goes south, Kirk and Spock are forced to make life and death decisions that test their bonds of endurance and friendship. Written for a prompt and based on two scenes from the film The Abyss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is in response to a prompt from Lucy, who requested a gen Kirk/Spock friendship fic based on two certain scenes from the film, The Abyss. (If you've seen the movie, you certainly know the ones we're talking about. If not, you can view them here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TObu_DbUdKM and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Q60x_5WOqk ). 
> 
> This is a gen friendship fic, but don't worry, I fully intend to slash it up in future endeavors. :)

“Captain, the sensors detect an accumulation of moisture on the hull.”

“Fix it, Spock.” Captain Kirk swore under his breath as he leaned forward in his seat to peer over Spock’s shoulder at the computer console. He understood the disastrous implications that hid beneath the matter-of-fact tone of Spock’s voice. The planet they were currently traversing in the shuttlecraft dubbed Magellan had an atmosphere composed primarily of chlorine gas. Any exposure to water would cause…

“Sir, an exterior panel has been compromised,” Anderson, the other officer at the shuttle’s helm, noted in alarm as dire warnings splashed crimson across the screen. “It’s eating away at the ship!”

“Magellan to Enterprise, we are preparing to implement emergency landing procedures—“

An explosion from the back of the shuttle pitched Kirk forward in his chair, and he felt a blistering heat against the back of his neck.

“Attempting to—“

The shuttle inverted, tumbling over and over towards the mountainous surface of the planet below. A cacophony of blared warnings, flashing red lights, the thick smell of smoke and Officer Malcovitch’s screams from the back of the shuttle blurred Kirk’s senses until everything whited out abruptly.

 

* * *

 

Awareness returned to Captain Kirk in a sudden rush. One moment, he was drifting somewhere in the ether, and the next his head felt like it was being split in two and every joint in his body throbbed. When his eyes snapped open along with a ragged groan, it brought a blurry and concerned Vulcan into focus.

“Captain.” Spock was kneeling down in front of him with a grave expression on his face, looking more than a little worse for wear himself. Green ribbons streaked down furrowed features, and his blue shirt was tattered at the sleeves. The first officer was waving a tricorder meticulously down every inch of Kirk’s body as he spoke. “Captain, you are injured, but you must attempt to remain conscious. Our situation is critical. I have extinguished the fire but our life support systems have been damaged.”

With another groan, Kirk forced his eyes to stay open despite wanting nothing more than to sink back into the nothingness and let someone else deal with the mortal struggle of survival for once. “I’m awake, Spock.” He clumsily reached for the release on his safety buckle, sending him pitching forward ungracefully before Spock steadied him, helping him to stand.  “Anderson and Malcovitch?”

“Both dead.” The ship was dark save for flashing red emergency lights, and the acrid smell of smoke and for some reason, pineapple, filled Kirk’s nose as he surveyed the damage. Anderson’s body had slumped over the console, face turned away but the back of the man’s head was dark with congealed blood.  Kirk was dimly aware that Spock was still speaking. “I have sent out a distress beacon, but all other attempts at communication have been unsuccessful.”

“Kirk to Enterprise.” Kirk staggered to stay upright and shrugged off Spock’s hand on his arm, ignoring the questioning quirk of those eyebrows as he was met with the same results.  Silence. “Come in, Enterprise.”

With a huff, Kirk propped his hands against the wall to stare down at the navigation console that was, for all intents and purposes, completely useless.  He didn’t have to be told that circumstances were dire. The whole reason they were exploring the planet’s surface in shuttles to begin with was because the transporter couldn’t seem to safely penetrate the dense atmosphere.  The test buoys came back as smoking heaps of rubbish.  If initial scans hadn’t shown the planet to be rich in dilithium deposits, he might have scrapped the mission then and there.  The potential value of the newly discovered planet for mining, however, spurred him to forge ahead. “What are our options, Spock?”

“If our distress beacon was intercepted, the nearest shuttle will arrive to investigate. According to our last readings, the Armstrong is at most thirty minutes from our coordinates.”

“So we sit tight.” Kirk scrubbed a hand over his face, ignoring the metallic tang of blood in his mouth while doing his best not to look at the dead officer beside him. The time for mourning and bitter regret would come, when he was pacing his quarters much later unable to sleep. Right now, he had to focus on getting there.

“Affirmative. The atmosphere is too toxic for unprotected exploration, and our protective gear has been damaged beyond adequate functionality. The life support systems have been significantly damaged as well, but should hold long enough for our rescue if it is in a timely fashion.”

“Perfect.” After standing upright long enough to become convinced he would not fall over, Kirk felt rather than visualized his way to the back of the small shuttle.  He bit back a wave of nausea when his feet stepped on what was unmistakably a hand. Malkovitch. The young officer had been so eager for the mission, flashing her bright smile proudly at being chosen for the Captain’s shuttle. Kirk tried not to picture it now, as he stepped over her body and squinted in the dim light.

The case containing their masks and protective gear was a smoking lump of charred metal. When he looked down again, however, Kirk noticed that there was an oxygen mask still clutched in Malkovitch’s outstretched hand. Carefully retrieving it, Kirk pressed it to his face and inhaled. “Spock. This one’s working.”

Spock joined him then, using the modest light from his tricorder to survey their only viable mask. “While not ideal, it will be useful if our distress beacon was not intercepted.”

Kirk frowned as he removed the mask, not even wanting to consider that option. “The Enterprise received our last transmission before the crash. They know what happened. They’ll find us.”  Kirk sneezed. “Alright, am I going crazy? Why do I keep smelling pineapples? My head injury wasn’t that bad.”

“I do not detect any unusual odors, but my olfactory senses are inferior to yours.” Spock frowned as he glanced around the ship, and froze. “Captain.”

Kirk followed the Vulcan’s gaze, blinking in the dim light until he also saw what gave his first officer such pause. The floor of the shuttle was blanketed in an eerie greenish-yellow fog. “Is that…”

“Chlorine gas is said to have a distinct odor.” Spock raised the tricorder to scan the area. “It appears the hull has been breached, Captain.”

Kirk’s eyes met Spock’s for a long pause as the weight of this information settled uncomfortably over them both. “We’ve got to find that leak.”

The next few minutes were occupied by a furious search that yielded little results beyond a coughing fit for Kirk. He realized with a sinking feeling that his mouth was not bleeding at all, even as the sharp metallic taste intensified.

“Captain,” Spock turned to him after abandoning his end of the futile search as well, instead focusing on the readings from the tricorder. “At the rate of the leak, I estimate that air quality will reach toxic levels in approximately twelve minutes.”

“How much longer until the Armstrong reaches us?”

“Twenty minutes at the very least. Provided—“

“—that they received our distress beacon. I know.”

Two gazes were drawn heavily to the one functioning mask dangling in Kirk’s grasp. Kirk swallowed, feeling as though his mouth was full of sand as he asked, “Can Vulcans tolerate chlorine any better than humans?”

“Negative. Chlorine gas is highly toxic to both our species.”

Kirk tore his eyes away from the mask with difficulty. His arms were weighted with lead as he shoved it at Spock. “Take it.”

Spock did not move or otherwise accept the gesture. “Captain, I must object--”

“Dammit Spock, just take it.”

“I cannot—“

“That’s an order, Commander! Put on the mask!”

“No.” Spock held his captain’s furious gaze with a severe frown of his own. “I will not. You must think about this logically, Captain—“

“Do the math, Spock!” Kirk shouted, attempting yet again to unsuccessfully force the mask into Spock’s resisting hands. “One of us isn’t walking out of here. Now I’m giving you a direct order—“

“Which I must refuse. Captain, there is a chance for both of us to survive this scenario.”

“What?” Kirk stared at Spock, dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“The odds are favorable but not highly so. They are, however, better than zero, which are your odds of survival if you do not wear the protective mask.”

“Spit it out, Spock.” Kirk folded his arms. Spock was hedging, which meant that Kirk was fairly certain that whatever this plan was, he wasn’t going to like it. “We’ve only got 11 minutes.”

“Even if you were to hold your breath, when deprived of oxygen your body will breathe in as a reflex and you will inhale the chlorine gas. At this concentration, it will react with the water in your body within moments and revert to hydrochloric acid.”

“I’m aware of the science, Spock.” Kirk folded his arms stubbornly, as always a little bit in awe of how calmly his first officer could discuss the mechanics of what was most likely an impending death for at least one of them. “Agonizing death ahead. Got it.”

“However, as a Vulcan I am in complete control of my autonomic reflexes.” When Kirk just blinked at Spock without understanding, he clarified, “To put it simply, I can instruct my body to stop breathing.”

“No.” Kirk felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise at what Spock was clearly suggesting. Nonplussed at his outright refusal, Spock carried on in that same clinical tone as though Kirk had never spoken.

“My circulatory system is designed to maximize oxygenation. As long as I am revived within fifteen minutes at most, I should not sustain any permanent neurological damage.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Captain—“

“I said no!” Kirk snapped. “As your commanding officer—“

“If you would just approach this logically for a moment—“

“Fuck logic!” Kirk exploded, rounding on Spock with a furious glare. “I’m not going to watch you die, Spock. That’s not an option. Find another one.”

“There is no other option, Captain.”

“I don’t accept that!”

“Reality does not depend upon your acceptance.” For some reason, the fact that Spock could stand there and talk so matter-of-factly about his own death enraged Kirk. Seething, he paced a few steps away before turning back to invade the Vulcan’s personal space.

“Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do? To just stand there and do nothing while--”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Spock’s voice was quiet, and for a moment his eyes were laced with a flash of pain. “You may recall that I have already endured the reverse scenario, Captain.”

Spock’s words hit him with a force he hadn’t expected, and Kirk swallowed thickly. For the briefest instant, he was back in that chamber with his hand pressed desperately to the glass barrier separating them. He’d never had the heart to ask Spock later if his memory was laced with delusion or if he had in fact actually seen tears dripping down the Vulcan’s face. “Spock…”

 “Do not ask me to do so again. I do not think that I can.” Kirk stared at Spock, who met his gaze intently.

“No, no way, you’re not allowed to throw that back at me.” Kirk turned away from Spock abruptly, unable to take that look for another second more without his throat closing up completely. “What I did—“

 “Was necessary.” Even though Kirk was not looking at him, he could hear the unexpected gentleness in Spock’s voice. The pleading.  It was the pleading that did it, in the end. “Please, Jim. Give me the opportunity to do the same. It is the only way.”

A wordless exclamation of frustration escaped Kirk then, and he turned sharply in a fit of rage to punch the side of the vessel with a muted clang. The gesture was futile, leaving him with only a dull ache in his clenched fist and the metallic burn growing stronger in his mouth.

“Okay.” Kirk breathed the word out quietly, barely a word at all, as he leaned forward against the wall with his shoulders hunched and quivering. Dread was a jagged rock in his throat that he swallowed down painfully before saying more audibly in a hoarse voice, “Alright. We’ll do it your way.”

Silence settled over them, blanketing the shuttle as surely as the gas slowly filling the small space. The greenish vapor was nearly up to their knees, and Kirk’s eyes were already burning faintly. He could not look at Spock as he kept his forehead pressed against the cool metal.

“Captain,” Spock’s voice was quiet yet still infuriatingly calm. “You should put on the mask now.”

Kirk didn’t move, shutting out the reality of the moment for a few more shuddered breaths. Slowly, hating himself, he brought the mask to his face and secured it around his ears. It covered his face securely from his forehead to his chin, locking the toxin away from any important orifices. “Spock.” He swallowed hard again, forcing his gaze towards his first officer. “These shuttles aren’t equipped with advanced medical capabilities. Just how exactly am I supposed to revive you before we get back to the ship?”

“You are versed in the basic principles of cardiopulmonary resuscitation?”

“On humans.” Kirk frowned as he stared at Spock, wracking his brain for the basics of the interspecies medical course he’d taken at the academy. “Will it even work on you?” Kirk nearly jumped out of his skin at the feel of Spock’s warm fingers on his wrist.

“My heart is located here,” Spock said quietly, placing the captain’s hand on his right side, much lower on his ribcage than he’d expected. Kirk could feel the thrumming under his palm, faster and stronger than any human’s. “Once my heart has stopped, the compressions will need to be as frequent as you can manage. Do not begin them until we are inside the Armstrong, or I may breathe in the chloride gas involuntarily.”

“Spock…” Kirk’s voice failed him. The gas was slowly creeping up to their elbows.

“You should turn away now, Captain. You may find this disturbing.” The expression on Spock’s face was grim but so calmly accepting of the situation that it made Kirk’s chest twist painfully.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Kirk tightened his grip on the Vulcan’s hand, although Spock did not attempt to fight him and merely nodded once in acquiesce. It seemed only fair to force himself to watch this; Spock had done no less for him. They stood that way for a long moment, the gas slowly rising. Kirk felt Spock’s hand squeeze his own in return, their fingers clumsily laced together so tightly that he began to lose the sensation in his fingertips.

It happened so quietly and calmly that Kirk nearly did not notice at first. There was no heaving or panicked gasping.

One minute, Spock was breathing. The next he wasn’t.

He felt Spock’s fingers limply slip out of his grasp.

Spock’s body was heavy as it pitched forward into Kirk’s arms, and they slowly sunk into the green haze on the floor together.  He kept his hand pressed to Spock’s side as the Vulcan lay crumpled across his lap, feeling the rapid thrumming of that heart slow gradually and eventually stop. Kirk’s own chest felt tight and heavy in a way that had nothing to do with the poison prickling his unprotected skin. He pinched his eyes shut with a wordless sound of pain.

Minutes had never been slower. Time seemed to stop. It seemed like hours before the shuttle door burst open.

 

* * *

 

“He needs oxygen!” Captain Kirk was shouting orders as Sulu and another officer helped him drag Spock onboard the Armstrong as quickly as possible. It had taken five minutes longer than Spock had predicted for the other shuttle to find them.

Dr. Marcus appeared from somewhere inside, quickly shoving an oxygen mask on Spock’s face as they laid the Vulcan out on the floor. “How long has he been unconscious?”

“Thirteen minutes.” The words felt raw in Kirk’s mouth. “He’s been dead for thirteen minutes.”

All four of the other officers aboard the shuttle were stunned into silence.

“Don’t just stand there! Move out of the way.” Kirk shoved Sulu and Dr. Marcus aside as he placed both hands over Spock’s side and began the rhythmic compressions. He pushed harder and faster than he would for a human, praying it was enough.

Kirk’s actions broke the spell, and everyone else seemed to spring back to life. The other two officers, whose names escaped Kirk at the moment, jumped back into their chairs at the helm to begin the most direct route back to the Enterprise. Dr. Marcus, who Kirk had never wished was an actual doctor more fervently, turned to Sulu. “Is there a defibrillator on the shuttle?”

“No.” Sulu shook his head, looking around frantically before tossing her his phaser. “Wait, try this. Put it on the highest stun setting, two notches below kill.”

Carol’s hands were shaking as she took the phaser, turning the notch. “Stand back, Captain.”

Kirk reluctantly stopped the compressions long enough for Marcus to press the phaser to Spock’s side where his hands had been. When she fired, the Vulcan’s entire body jerked. Spock’s skin was a dull gray, his dark eyes fixed and staring. Kirk caught the material of his first officer’s shirt between his hands and tore it open, exposing the clammy gray skin of Spock’s chest and side for Dr. Marcus to press the phaser directly against it.

“Again!”

After another shock with no result, Kirk jumped back into the compressions with his entire body. It took considerable force to make the Vulcan’s sturdy ribs yield at all, much less enough to make a difference, and every desperate thrust of his arms made Spock’s head dance back against the floor like a lifeless doll. Kirk tried to keep a mental count of the compressions, but lost track somewhere around one hundred and twenty. His arms were beginning to cramp and his lungs were burning, but he didn’t care. “Come on Spock,” he growled. “Breathe, dammit.”

The minutes sped by more quickly this time, much too fast. Every second that slipped by was another nail in Spock’s coffin.

“Shock him again!”

“Captain…”

“Do it!” When Dr. Marcus hesitated, Kirk grabbed the phaser out of her hand. He paused for half a second before setting it up a notch, and shooting it into Spock’s side himself. This time Spock’s body arched off the ground with the force of the current.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

“Captain.”  

Ripping the mask off Spock’s face, Kirk tilted his first officer’s head back and pinched his nose shut before pressing his mouth over Spock’s. The Vulcan’s lips were shockingly cold, sending goose bumps across Kirk’s skin even as he forced a deep breath down Spock’s throat that caused his chest to rise momentarily.

After returning the oxygen mask to Spock’s face, Kirk resumed the compressions with a frantic desperation until he was practically punching Spock in the side as hard as he could. He could feel a rib crack under the blows, but he didn’t stop. “Come on you stubborn son of a bitch! You’ve never backed down from anything in your whole goddamn life. Now breathe!”

“Captain, please.” Sulu stepped forward to place a hand on Kirk’s shoulder, which he shrugged off.  Drawing back his arm, Kirk slapped his first officer hard in the face.

“Fight! Fight damn it, don’t you dare die on me. Fight!” He struck Spock again, and again, until Sulu grabbed his arm.

“Captain!”

“No!” Pulling away from Sulu violently, Kirk leaned down and forced another breath into Spock’s lungs before he resumed beating on his first officer’s chest with reckless abandon. He was only vaguely aware of hearing Dr. Marcus give a quiet sob behind him and murmur something about not being able to watch. “Breathe, Spock. Dammit, that’s an order.”

He nearly missed it the first time Spock’s chest moved. The second time, Kirk froze. Pressing a hand to Spock’s bruised side, he felt something stuttering weakly under his hands before beginning to thrum faster and harder. Then Spock’s mouth opened with an audible gasp, his chest expanding with air.

Although already kneeling, Kirk sank to the ground beside Spock in a relief so consuming that it sapped all of his resources.  The ache in his arms and back came upon him full force, as the extent of his exertion turned all his muscles to rubber and he wasn’t sure if he was closer to vomiting or passing out. Kirk brought up one knee to lean his forehead against, his lungs still burning and his own heart thundering, as he left one hand draped over Spock’s chest. He could feel every slow, deep breath with a rhythmic rise and fall. Spock’s skin was still pale but slowly losing that deathly grey. Kirk could hear the other officers speaking around him, sense the flurry of activity, and feel the very slight weight of Carol Marcus’s hand on his shoulder, but it was all a daze.

 

* * *

 

“One of my professors back in med school told us once that if we didn’t crack at least one rib during resuscitation, we weren’t doing it right. Of course, he was sued for malpractice a few years down the road, but I think you got the spirit of his advice down pat.”

“I’m glad you can joke about this, Bones.” Kirk was sitting on an assessment table in medical, his elbows hunched on his knees and his hands clasped so tightly together his knuckles were white. The doctor paused in his incessant waving of a tricorder around the captain’s head to look at Kirk seriously.

“He’s alive, isn’t he? Thanks you to, and the wonders of good old fashioned rip-cracking CPR.” Bones lowered the tricorder with a frown. “In fact, once he finishes with that Vulcan witchcraft healing trance of his, he’ll be good as new. You, on the other hand, will have to settle for some very human rest and relaxation.”

“I’m fine, Bones.” Kirk’s voice sounded weary and unconvincing, even to himself. He didn’t even have to glance up at his friend to know he didn’t buy it for a second. His right shoulder still ached dully where the doctor had regenerated the rotator cuff he’d torn during his slightly overly enthusiastic compressions.

“The hell you are.” Bones folded his arms, clearly digging in for their usual argument after Kirk thwarted death and insisted upon returning to duty immediately. “Just because your lungs aren’t full of acid doesn’t mean you’re fit for duty. Look at you, you’re exhausted. You’re pale as a corpse. Hell, you’re paler than Spock, and he _was_ a corpse a few hours ago.”

“Two good officers are dead. I’ve got a report to write up, letters to their families, and a funeral to plan.” Kirk ran a hand over his face with a sigh, before pushing off the table and standing up. “Not to mention a valuable planet to explore that has an atmosphere with serious hostility issues.”

“Well it’s a good thing you have an army of yeomans to handle your paperwork, because I’m putting you on 24 hours of medical rest, starting now.” Bones had that look on his face, the one he got when he was prepared to knock Kirk unconscious for his own good if that’s what it took.

“Bones--“

“I’m serious, Jim. If you so much as log into the computer system before the end of the day, I’ll make it 48 hours and a date with a sedation hypo. Now go get some rest.”

 

* * *

 

Kirk barely made it down the hall before he ran into Lieutenant Uhura. Or rather, she ran into him and wrapped her arms around him fiercely, burying her face in his aching shoulder with a silent sob that caught him off-guard. 

“Thank you,” She murmured into the singed collar of his uniform, and Kirk’s hand absently stroked once down the back of her hair for lack of knowing what else to do. Her gratitude was so fierce and bright that it overwhelmed him, and she seemed to sense that he was barely teetering on his feet. Uhura released him abruptly, her face melting into concern as she peered up at him. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks.” Kirk forced a smile. “At least you and Bones are on the same wavelength.”

“Did he say when we can see Spock? Is he…”

“Spock’s going to be fine.” Kirk wasn’t entirely sure if he could believe that until he saw the Vulcan with his own eyes, sitting up and arguing with him logically. But it felt important to say, as though by repetition alone it may become truth. “He’s in some kind of healing trance. Bones says no one can disturb him until it’s done.”

Uhura nodded, although her gaze was drawn to the double doors of medical ward behind him like a magnet.  

“I know it’s bad timing, but I need you on the bridge. Bones stuck me on medical rest, so I need you and Sulu to split shifts at the conn until tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Uhura tore her gaze away from those doors with difficulty, although she straightened up visibly and squared her shoulders. Duty first. God, but he loved his crew. They could fraternize all they wanted, but at the end of the day every single one of his senior officers lived and breathed for this ship just like he did.

“You’ll be the first to know when he wakes up.”

“No, I won’t.” Uhura looked at him bluntly, and he shrugged. “But you’ll tell me how he is.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Go get some rest.” Leaning up on her tip-toes, she kissed him briefly on the cheek before turning back the way she came.

 

* * *

 

Despite his protests, Captain Kirk slept for nearly thirteen hours. He woke up feeling groggy and vaguely ill, but it subsided after a blistering-hot shower that he let wash over him until his skin was lightly broiled. He could already tell he was in for one hell of a crisis-hangover. In the past, he’d have dealt with it efficiently by partying himself into oblivion and adding a real hangover to the mix, but now that Kirk was a starship captain he was expected to respond to stress like a responsible adult. This usually meant drinking in his quarters alone and pestering Bones for a hypo to banish the effects the next day.

Kirk was sprawled out on his sofa uncorking a bottle of Saurian Brandy he’d confiscated during a raid on a smuggling vessel months ago, when a message from medical flashed on his comm.

“Kirk here.”

“Good morning Captain.” It was one of the nurses—Davis, maybe? The brunette with a sweet smile and a much better bedside manner than Bones. He could never get the doctor to admit it, but Kirk was pretty sure Bones had explored that particular undiscovered country at least once. “Dr. McCoy wanted me to let you know that Spock’s awake and all of his neurological readings are within normal parameters.”

“Good. That’s good.” A breath that Kirk hadn’t even been aware of holding escaped him then, the tight draw of his shoulders loosening slightly. “Is he released yet?”

“No, sir. Commander Spock is still under mandatory medical observation.” There was something in the nurse’s voice as she spoke, a lilt of amusement on the word ‘mandatory’, that made Kirk suspect that the patient was probably being about as cooperative as he himself was known to be when Bones insisted upon poking and prodding him excessively.

“Thank you, Nurse Davis.”

“Douglas, sir.” Yes, she was definitely amused. Kirk grimaced apologetically.

“Sorry. Kirk out.”

 

* * *

 

Bones didn’t seem at all surprised to find him parked inside medical an hour later, leaning against the wall outside the sealed room where Spock was still in seclusion. The door was coded expressly to medical personnel only, which was the one lock his captain’s override could not break. 

“I guess I did this to myself,” Bones sighed as he attempted to ignore Kirk in favor of surveying medical records at his desk.

“Well, I do have 10 more hours to kill.”

“You’re supposed to spend them doing something relaxing.”

“I don’t know about you, but I find this very relaxing.” To prove his point, Kirk wandered over and flopped down in a chair behind Bones with an exaggerated air of comfort. “You know, I’ve always wondered what that button does…”

“Fine!” Bones slapped Kirk’s hand away from the medical console. “Spock’s awake anyway. He’s almost as terrible a patient as you are, so you might as well keep each other company.” Bones met Kirk’s triumphant smile with a glare as he punched in the override code and waved him off. “Now get out of my hair.”

 

* * *

 

Spock was sitting on the corner of the biobed, shrugging a clean blue uniform over his head when Kirk walked in.

“Doctor, while I applaud your caution, I must insist that I am now of perfectly adequate health, and--”  Spock paused when he turned to find Kirk standing in the doorway instead. Kirk was flooded with instant relief at the sight of his first officer sitting up and already being contrary.  It momentarily took away his ability to say anything at all. “Captain.”

“Spock.” A warm smile washed over Kirk’s face, wiping the worried creases from the day before away far more effectively than the sifter full of brandy left ignored in his quarters. “Sorry about the ribs.”

“Doctor McCoy informed me of your efforts.” Spock stood to his feet now, tucking his hands behind his back. “It appears my life is once again indebted to you.”

“We’re not keeping score, Spock,” Kirk replied with a soft smile still. “Besides, you saved mine first this time. That makes us even.”

“For now.”

“Right.” Kirk grinned. “So are you ready to get out of here?”

“The doctor was quite adamant--”

“I’ll handle Bones.” Kirk’s eyes were alight with mischief, and he felt his earlier weariness melt away. The corner of Spock’s mouth quirked up in appreciation. “Come on.”

 

* * *

 

An hour later found them back in the captain’s quarters, since Bones had decided to attempt to outsmart Kirk by making it a condition of Spock’s early release that he remain in the company of a senior officer at all times to assess his condition. Ultimately it worked, because instead of pacing about the ship restlessly for the remainder of his medical leave, Kirk was draped across his couch drinking some sort of bitter tasting calming tea while Spock sat on the other end reading from his PADD.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never heard of the Rolling Stones,” Kirk remarked as the music thrummed quietly in the background, courtesy of a vintage record player he’d managed to get his hands on years ago and never let go.

“I still fail to see what movement of aggregate minerals has to do with music,” Spock replied without looking up from his reading, even after the captain laughed and nudged him with his foot simply to be irritating.

Although Kirk only drank the tea to appease the Vulcan, he could not argue that the effects were mildly soothing. He felt a calm sort of drowsiness settle over him as he relaxed into several long moments of comfortable silence. “Hey Spock,” Kirk voiced after a little while, a thoughtful frown on his face as he lapsed into watching his first officer read. “Can I ask you something?”

It was a testament to Spock’s regard for his captain that he merely looked up from his PADD thoughtfully, and did not point out that he already did. “Yes, you may.”

“I just…” Kirk seemed to struggle for a moment to find the exact words he wished to use. “Back on the shuttle. When you wouldn’t take the mask.” Spock waited through a pause for Kirk to continue. “Did you refuse it because you felt like you had to? Because I’m the Captain?”

“I refused because it was not logical,” Spock explained patiently. “As you can now see, the course of action we pursued offered the highest chance of mutual survival.”

“Did you even really expect it to work?” Kirk asked bluntly, leveling his gaze at Spock.

“I was equally accepting of either outcome.” 

“Look, I never want anyone to just throw away their life for me out of duty,” Kirk finally said with a frown. “Just because I’m the captain doesn’t mean my life is worth more than anyone else’s on this ship.”

“Regulation would disagree. The captain--”

“Screw regulation. I’m talking about life and death, here. No one should ever feel obligated to die for me just because I’ve got more stripes on my shirt. It’s just not…right.”

“You object to the scenario from a moral standpoint. You appear to infer that the burden of duty supersedes free will. ”

“Yes. That’s exactly why.” Kirk shifted to sit up, motioning with his hand to emphasis his point. “No one should ever feel like they have to die for someone else just because of their job. I’d never ask someone to do that.”

Spock was silent for a moment as he regarded his captain. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully before he spoke. “In that case, would it be acceptable to do so because you are my friend?”

A smile washed over Kirk’s face at this, unexpectedly bright. “Yeah. I guess that would be alright.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you also to Lucy for the beta! I hope this fulfills your expectations. :)
> 
> There is some dialogue in this fic that intentionally very closely mirrors that from the original movie, so I cannot really take credit for it. Most especially, “Fuck logic!” and “Come on you stubborn bitch, you've never backed down from anything in your life!”


End file.
